


Heart

by Chino



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Stiles has a lot of self sacrifice and self hate, Stiles will do anything for Scott's pack even get tortured., he makes me cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-20
Updated: 2012-08-20
Packaged: 2017-11-12 12:55:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chino/pseuds/Chino
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being fine is his ideal concept that exists in his utopia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart

He relishes in the cold comfort of loneliness. This room is bare, bed taken, furniture ruined, scarred like the scars lined on his heart jagged strips of every disappointment and lines of loose leaf with the words ‘weak’ written into his heart, branded into his skin, that squeezes into the crevices, ink bleeding, blood pumping, heart thumping. 

It’s the stutter of his organ, that alerts him into half wakefulness he ignores the throbbing jack rabbiting, bongo drum playing torment in his mind and holds onto the idea that he’s okay. 

The scrapes on his knees are not there from enjoyment, the throb in his back only feels like spreading numbness, the listlessness in his eyes will forever be caged into them, only retreating into their den when he needs to hide the defectiveness of his own nature. 

Being fine is an ideal concept that exists in his utopia. 

If he could dream anymore he’d dream of being okay, red painted cheeks holding a perfect slender hand, intertwining fingers, locking two bodies together in perfect symmetric harmony. 

He thinks he’d love him, and that would be okay. 

His own body is fueled with charcoal that is running on empty, he thinks he can jerk his feet to a standing position and hope his brain can send his hurting ligaments the message to keep going. (but he never really stops).

Standing becomes the hardest part of all. 

He remembers the older man’s face lined with hate and eyes swimming in disgust his palm slapped his cheek once, twice, giving him no air in his lungs, giving his brain no time to adjust, a constant hitting, flesh hitting flesh skin tingeing pink boiling under his skin.

He cries out, a sad sobbing a sound that gets stuck in his throat and hurts. He feels weak, can’t shake the older man off of him starting to see stars, a constellations in his vision while going limp on the ground hearing hisses of pity, anger, and damnation all twisted into the stench of the older mans breath. 

The nightmares fueled by this night will be a plenty, the trauma woven down his spine down to his feat sitting comfortable at the soles something he’ll have to trudge along with, extra baggage.

Lungs breathing heavily as the man finally get’s off, removes himself from the boys space, blotches of red invade his vision and cold eyes burn, releasing a final kick into the boys stomach who feels the pain before impact, spluttering blood painting rose petals on the floor board. 

Useless, he was calls him then, useless human. 

That was hours ago now he stands. 

He stands up, perfect vertical position and ignores his body screaming to sit. He moves towards the door thinking ‘I have to get home, I need to see my dad’ He doesn’t wonder about his friends who are perfectly safe but his father who is a cluster of worried thoughts towards his son. After the beating he feels empty, hollow, like he didn’t just do his deed to the pack and protect his best friends Alpha (not his, never his), 

he should feel satisfied that he was of use but he just feels used up. He would never blurt out the location of the pack, not to that man or any who tried to kill the wolves. They could beat him bloody and take all he has left he’d never open his mouth even if they broke him to the last string that kept his body upright he would still find a way to stand firm. 

Loyalty a flash of the mans lips, slithering over that word, Gerald said “a nice quality to have in a pack but not the human, the breakable one, the one that needs to survive”. He remembers that, the human, sneered like he was insignificant, “we can kill you easy, we can kidnap you, and it’s not just me, many more will come, many will paint the floors with your blood, all for your little pack, why is it worth it?” 

Why is it worth it?

He wonders if Gerald would listen to his explanation, the smile on Alison’s lips when Scotts rushes to her side unharmed, the fragility of Erica who doesn’t let anyone into her world unless they earn that right, Isaac who was taught anger his whole life but chose family and love in the end, Boyd, who didn’t know loyalty or friendship until their small dysfunctional group came together and Derek who said he was creating an army but instead he made himself a new family to heal his loneliness. 

Stiles will do anything to protect the people who have gone through so much and who he has grown with, he’d take every hit, every bullet, and every condescension of his humanity if he is able to see those people happy.

**Author's Note:**

> this is so depressing but I like how it turned out.


End file.
